Soon We Will be Found
by narcissmy
Summary: "There were two things I knew about Edward Cullen. The first was that he irritated to me to the emotional equivalent of sandpaper irritation of the eyeballs. The second was that with one hooded emerald gaze as he left the gym, he could almost make me flood my panties." Dual POV story. Prisonward and Snarkerella!
1. Soon We Will Be Found

**Hi guys. So this is my first attempt at writing a progressive fiction. It's a dual perspective story, because I like for you to experience Snarkward AND Sassy Bella. None of the characters are my own of course, they all belong to Miss Meyer. I promise not to use them for anything horrendous like Fifty Shades of Grey (Or to ever describe an ear as an auditory canal). The title of this chapter and the fiction itself is taken from the song "Soon We'll be Found" by Sia. It's a beautiful song, go check it out! Please read and review, so far I've had some lovely feedback on my stories. **

_**Come along, it's the break of day. Surely now you'll have some things to say. It's not the time to be telling tales on me…**_

I inhaled the smell of the gym, and it brought back a rush of childhood memories. I spent the majority of my younger days up until the age of seven here, cooped up in Charlie's office doing my homework. Charlie always said that my mom was so preoccupied with other things half the time, he was afraid she'd forget about me completely whilst he was at work and I'd stick my fingers in a socket, or something. Clearly having an accident prone kid messed with his head.

The building itself was housed in an old police academy. Despite Forks having a population of – 40 some days, they used to send police from nearby Seattle to get their basic training here. When they moved the facilities elsewhere, my dad Charlie bought the place (Jokingly earning him the title, "Chief of Police"). It was a weird youth/town centre these days. Before my mother had left she had run a pottery and art class here, to which flaky mothers of varying degrees had turned up to 'find themselves' again after having their children. Renée had loved the brief fame it had brought her, always the social butterfly, and my dad had been duped into believing that his wife could make do with being a local celebrity and put her dreams of moving out of the small town behind her.

It was a relatively successful business, but the greatest pull by far was the boxing gym that Charlie had constructed in the basement. In a small town, young boys got bored very easily, and the police were forever having to criminalise youngsters for small acts of vandalism, or smoking pot in a forgotten alleyway somewhere. Of course, there were those who still did those things, but the gym was a good place for them to come to vent their Podunk town frustrations. A lot of the boys around here had even secured scholarships to outer state universities because of their competition in local leagues.

Most importantly, there was always a rivalry between the La Push teens and Forks High. La Push was the Indian reservation in Forks, and it was notoriously known that the two schools just did not mix. Charlie had been best friends with Billy Black, head of the reservation for year (A friendship forged in late night fishing and card games,) and I had always been close to his son Jacob as a child. My dad really wanted to abolish the rivalry that was sparking so many fights, or even to channel the competitive energy into one place. The La Push boys - although built like tanks – were absurdly light on their feet. They made excellent trainees.

I had just hit seven when my mom decided that she was being suffocated by my dad's 'small town ways'. We had moved to Phoenix then, with the guy my mom had met over some internet dating site. Phil. He was ten years her junior, and marginally an asshole, but he had a lot of money and a fancy ass car and so, I guess that was all the reason my flighty mother needed to uproot seven-year-old me and move me to a city hot as fucking hell. Since then, I'd been updated on the gym's progress through emails and telephone calls from my dad. He was still proud as hell about this place, and it felt a lot more familiar to me - walking through the doors with their peeling red paint – than Phoenix ever had.

I was just here for the summer visit. Usually, Phil liked to take us on a big fancy location at this time of year, like Bora Bora or the Dominican Republic. But this year, his company had run into some money problems, and so we'd had to 'compromise'. Up until this summer, I had a boyfriend in Phoenix that I couldn't possibly be parted from, and I was ashamed today I hadn't visited for the whole summer in a while. I didn't mind that Phil's fancy shmancy holiday was cancelled. I was a truly boring teen, all things considered. No rebellious streak whatsoever and nursing a heartbreak (Apparently, he could definitely live without me AND with my best friend). And so Forks with my dad for the summer suited me just fine, even if it was currently awkward trying to remind him I was 18 now instead of 7.

It was way too early for anybody sane to turn up to train yet. I had never been a good sleeper in my own bed, constantly plagued with nightmares and strange, cryptic dreams which left my sheets twisted and soaked with sweat. So when I'd woken up at 7, I'd gone for a run (Almost breaking my ankle, which was usual for me, considering I was such a clutz), hit the shower and then come here to open up. I'd left Charlie nursing a cup of coffee and lamenting the fact that it was too goddamn early.

The office was just how I remembered it. Pokey, musty and reeking of…well, male. The gym always smelled kind of damp, but I figured that was probably because of the buckets of sweat people put into training here. It was barely eight a.m, and I had nothing to do with the rest of my day. I had been away from Forks so long that I highly doubted any of my childhood friends were still around…and even if they were, they'd all grown up like me. It would be weird to try and make friends with them all over again. Besides, I didn't particularly need the company. I tended to be quite a solitary individual, and I figured that I'd only have to say goodbye to everyone at the end of the summer anyway. Why torture myself with saying goodbye? No, I planned to make my summer here in Forks a reflective one.

Phoenix was too busy a city for thinking. It was always too hot to properly sit down and reminisce, or even to just take five minutes to breathe in some fresh air and think about where your life was going. The air wasn't refreshing. It was a harsh realisation, rather than a gentle evaluation.

I started sifting through the pile of papers on my dad's desk, automatically tidying them into a neat pile, placing all those with the corner folded down into the "read" plastic box, and all the new envelopes I'd tripped over on the way in into the "unread". I swept layers of crumbs from countless sandwiches and dust from countless days onto the floor. I was just reaching for the cloth to clean off the computer screen when the loud bang of the gym door opening startled me.

"Hello?" I called out to what had previously been an empty gym. I could just make out a figure, clad in atypical boxing shorts and boots, a slim fit tank top and a large black hoodie (hood up, covering his face,) making his way over to the skipping ropes.

"Excuse me?" I tried again, trying to appeal to this guy's basic manners. He simply picked up the rope and started skipping, quick and aggressive. Despite almost wearing a hole in the floor with the pace of his exercise, I heard no increase in his breathing at all. What was he, bionic?

I slammed the office door purposely, marching over to where he was training. Stubbornly, I stuck my foot out, stopping the skipping rope mid-cycle, and when he faltered he looked up angrily. His hood had fallen down mid exercise, and his hair was the colour of sunrise. Gloriously auburn and equally unkempt. His jaw was strong and sure, arrogant, even, and the plane of his nose was defined, as were his cheekbones. He was all sharp angles, aside from his effeminate lips and his disarming green stare. If he wasn't drawn so tight with visible anger, I might even think him good looking. But the light in the gym was poor at best, so I wasn't going to hedge my bets.

"What the fuck is your problem, kid?"

I bristled immediately. I was expecting a "Sorry ma'am, I didn't hear you", not something so blatantly rude. And definitely not kid. He must have only been around 23 himself.

"Excuse me?" I quirked an eyebrow at him. "What the fuck is _my_ problem? What the hell is yours? You don't think it's common courtesy to at least alert someone that you're here, so I don't think I'm getting burgled?"

He snorted and scratched at the stubble on his face.

"What, you think you wouldn't notice if I was trying to wrench the punchbag off the wall?"

He was mocking me. He was insolent, and on top of that he was mocking me.

"I think you should leave." I wasn't going to tell him who I was. He shouldn't need to know my dad was Charlie to show some respect. I was a human being, just the same as he was. Besides, I had never been the type to cry for my daddy if things went wrong. I was too independent.

"And I think you should keep your nose out of my business. I pay to come here just like everybody else."

My chest was heaving with angry words I wanted to spit into his face. But I reigned myself in; I wasn't going to lower myself to his level. He had already gone back to picking up his skipping rope and I wanted to wrap it around his pale neck instead.

"You know what, you're right. If you want to be an asshole, that's your prerogative."

I slammed back into the office so hard the blinds shook.

The prickly stranger put me in an awful frame of mind all day. I knew the only way to purge my system was to cook it out. I always cooked when I was under emotional stress. The first few weeks at my new school in Phoenix my mom had fresh cookies and muffins every day. Much to her chagrin. She'd eat the whole lot and then scald me for 'ruining her figure'. There ensued many conversations about 'keeping herself young for Phil in the bedroom'. My mother had always been excruciatingly open about 'sex' and she had been so overexcited to give me 'the talk' when I hit puberty it was positively depressing. In fact, I think she damn near shit herself when I got a boyfriend. I guess I'd never been particularly girly, so the fact that I had to deal with the feminine traits my body had forced on me (I had pretty good boobs,) made her happy somehow. I could refuse pink clothing, but sadly, I could not out run PMS.

Charlie had a full steak dinner waiting for him when he came home from the gym that evening. I had left at lunch time to go get some groceries. All I had found in my dad's house upon arrival had been a tin of gherkins and a loaf of bread so mouldy it could have cured at least 1000 antibiotic requiring infections. He had cast an eye at me furiously mashing potatoes at the sink when he'd arrived, but he hadn't raised any questions. This is what I liked about my dad. Things that Renée would put me into mediated counselling for, Charlie accepted as normal.

We sat down at the table, and he dug in with a hearty sound of approval. I suddenly felt very guilty in that moment. If he was getting that excited over a piece of steak and mashed potatoes, then his diet since my mom left must have been ridiculously limited. He did own the menus to every single take-away in Forks, and when he had dialed last night for pizza on my arrival, they had greeted him by name.

I chewed my food carefully, my anger only partially abated. Desperate to distract myself from the feeling currently churning my guts, I cast about in my mind for any common ground to talk about.

"So do the Cullens still live in town?"

Charlie stopped eating for a while, pushed his food around his plate. He took another bite, chewed slowly.

"Yup, they're around still. Old man Cullen is still a Doctor at the hospital."

Carlisle had been a doctor for as long as I could remember. No-one remembered why they lived in Forks at all. Esmé was a renowned artist, and everyone knew they had more than enough money to move out of town. They had the nicest house around for miles. They had three children, Emmett, Edward and Alice. Alice had always been a bit…springy. It was well known she'd struggled with an array of difficulties through her teenage years and my dad had mentioned that she'd even been hospitalised once or twice.

"What about the kids? Does Emmett still box?"

"Yes he does, he's quite a big name on the circuit. He got a scholarship to the University of Seattle out of my gym." Charlie looked proud. "Did some fancy business degree too. You know the Cullens, always intelligent."

It wasn't Emmett I was interested in. I had always known that Emmett would work out just fine. It was the other two that had posed some problems. Edward had always been a wild teen. A 'dirty boxer', as Charlie had put it. He had been a musician, if I remembered correctly. An abstract, scattered brain. Carlisle had sent him to the boxing gym to try and focus him a little. Get him to expel all his energy into the gym. It hadn't worked. He'd always been too raucous and aggressive. Although Charlie always said if he could just pull in his anger he'd be ten times better than his brother because he was so much lighter. Slippery.

"Alice took off not so long back. Got married to some southern guy called Jasper. Shotgun wedding without even telling her parents. She was always flighty." He sipped his beer, swishing it round his palette. "Edward still comes to the gym. Early in the mornings…usually the first one in. He trains now, but doesn't box."

I gulped my drink. My pulse racing.

"That boy's hair matches his temperament altogether."

It was Edward Cullen. The asshole that had completely infuriated me without so much as looking my way was Edward.

"Yeah, I think I ran into him this morning. He got kind of prickly over the years. What happened?"

"A lot happened Bella. It's certainly no talk for the table, or for a young girl and it's most certainly not our business."

I paused awkwardly. Charlie was rarely this distinct about anything. I didn't push the issue any further - Charlie was like Fort Knox when it came down to things like these. He could keep a secret for years. Besides, Forks was a small town…and judging by his reaction, it wasn't some small occurrence. Someone would talk sooner or later.

That night the sound track to my dreams was a steady thwack of the skipping rope against the concrete floor. I was running from something I didn't understand, but it was all for nought. I was running in circles…I just couldn't work out my starting point.

I woke tangled in my sheets at 3 am, crying out for my father.

EPOV

My brother was home from university for Spring break, and he was looking as big a beefcake as ever. Whilst technically, I was the 'smallest' of the two of us, by society's standard, I was still built. For some reason, my mom always liked myself and Emmett on the same side of the table; for what reason I did not know, and my only guess was so she could give me a complex in the hope it would keep my outrageous attitude in check.

She needn't worry about my ego anymore. Since my prison stint, no-one tended to look at me like I was worth a damn. Even that uppity brat in the gym today had made it her personal business to assert her authority over me. It was authority, and people shouting the odds that had got me into the mess I was in in the first place.

"So Edward, how was your day?"

My mom, although an artist by nature, read a child psychology book when I was ten, and from then on we had to have these touchy feely conversations at the dinner table. She even has this weird voice she puts on for it, which is only one step away from the telephone voice. Everyone hates the telephone voice.

"Nothing special, pretty much the same as any other day."

I speared a forkful of mashed potatoes, shovelling them into my mouth with the grace of an animal, hoping that my appalling table manners would stop her psychoanalysing me.

"Did you go to the gym?"

My mother was fishing.

"Yes Mom, I go to the gym every morning."

I wasn't going to bite. My brother shot me a quizzical look and I shrugged it off with a glug of my drink.

"And did you meet with your support worker today?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Mom, I'm not going to any support worker meetings. I don't need one. For the last time, I'm not going to throw myself out of a second storey window because I've served a prison term. We both know he's just a glorified counsellor."

"Honey, I just think that it would be a good idea if…"

"Mom. I have a job, I don't go out at night anymore, in fact, I'm pretty sure I hardly leave the house at all thanks to the psychological baby gates you've installed in me. The whole neighbourhood treats me like a leper, so I'm hardly likely to fall off the wagon anytime soon. I go to the gym, I go to the autoshop. Occasionally, I go wild and journey to the garage to buy myself some cigarettes. That's it."

I see her wince at my sarcasm. And suddenly I feel so very guilty. My mother's face has lined over the years, the last two years, to be specific. And the entirety of my relationship with Tanya. She's still beautiful, but in a much more resigned way, and she hardly ever smiles anymore. And I know that's my fault. I chew hastily, and try to change the subject.

"As it happens, I did meet someone today, but she was a total bitch."

My mother winced at the slight curse word, and I laughed, indulging her. She was such a southern belle, it amused me. Even raising two teenage boys hadn't hardened her to casual swearing. She put down her fork.

"She seems to be the new receptionist, or something? She didn't train or anything. Just stood there hollering at me."

Esmé's face suddenly brightened.

"Oh, so Bella's back?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Bella who?"

My father piped up from the other end of the table.

"Bella Swan, Charlie's little girl. Only I guess she's not so little anymore. She must be around…"

"Eighteen?" Emmett offered, his freakish mathematical brain and photographic memory striking again. He mumbled it around a mouthful of bread, spraying crumbs everywhere, and my mother sighed softly, resigned to having a Neanderthal as a son.

Bella Swan. The last time I had seen Bella Swan was when she was an awkward, gawky 7 year old, whom I teased relentlessly for being the only girl to spend so much time in the gym. I believe, quite cockily at the time, that I accused her of being a peeping tom on all of the teenage boys. I had made her cry and Carlisle had cuffed me around the ear, but it had been true. She had always watched us all with a rapt attention, and it had made me more than a little sad that the poor kid had just been left to her own devices for pretty much any time she wasn't in school, because her mom was a fruit loop.

"No way, Bella Swan was much less of an asswipe."

"Edward Cullen." My mother's voice was sharp. "I will not have that language at my dinner table."

Myself, Emmett and my dad stifled our laughter around the pork and gravy.

"Anyway, she's only just got back here. Please tell me you waited at least until after polite introductions before you got into some verbal sparring match."

I chewed guiltily.

"Oh Edward! You have to be careful. You know more than I do that people are tetchy around you since…"

My anger flared.

"I got it Mom. No pissing off damsels in distress for fear I get culled by an angry mob."

"Edward, that's not what I meant, but Charlie's a nice guy and…"

"And I'm just a stinking criminal. I get it. Edward the disappointment strikes again." My voice was bitter with sarcasm, and I could feel it twisting me tighter inside. Squeezing around my organs and making my stomach drop. Building on my irrationality. And suddenly my knife and fork were clattering to the plate and my chair was screeched back, and I was running again.

My mother called after me from the kitchen table, but I was too far gone.

I'm always too far gone.

_**Let's desert this day of hurt, tomorrow we'll be free.**_


	2. Fingerprints

**Wow, so since the people who have reviewed have been unbelievably kind so far and I had a second, shorter topic waiting in the wings, I thought I'd get this up for all you lovelies who have taken the time to follow, favourite and review. Thank you so much for the support. Hope you enjoy. Title of this chapter credited to Katy Perry - Fingerprints**

_**Voted most likely to end up on the back of a milk box drink, looks like I'm letting them down…**_

EPOV

The next day I was frogmarched to the gym by Carlisle. That's a pretty humiliating experience for anyone, but for a twenty-five year old man, it's even worse. I was told to apologise to Bella Swan, when he 'reintroduced' myself and my brother to her.

It was a Saturday, and so Charlie was there already, reading through a fax whilst holding a cinnamon bun in his hand. It smelled delicious, and my stomach rumbled at the memory of the pancakes I had been about to indulge in when I had been dragged outside by my ear.

"Old man Cullen!" Charlie greeted my dad affectionately, and again, my stomach twisted at the neighbourly tone to his voice. There was no hang back there. No moment needed to assess my dad's character.

"Charlie, how are things?" My dad launched into a conversation about Esmé's most recent art show, and the new collection she was working on. He always spoke about my mom with a quiet kind of reverence, and even though he was nothing to be shy about professionally, he always built her up on some pedestal. It was endearing, to be perfectly honest.

I tuned out of the conversation until my brother nudged my elbow and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Holy shit, Bella got hot."

"Emmett, she's like…18. Don't be so inappropriate."

But I followed his gaze anyway. In the office, I could see her more clearly than I had been able to out in the gym itself. Bella was standing behind the desk, checking something on the computer screen. She had on one of those crop top things that girls wear to stop their assets doing all manner of distracting things whilst exercising and soft grey yoga pants. I could see the soft tone of her abdominal muscles, the slim but healthy line of her legs inside of the pants. Her face was devoid of make-up and her hair was piled up on top of her head in some shiny, floppy mess that somehow looked appealing – Wait. What the fuck? Bella did get hot.

Her sharp little white teeth were tearing apart a cinnamon bun, leaving flakes of pastry all over her sugared lips and I stared like a starving man, unusually transfixed on the pointed pink tongue that slipped out to sweep in the stray crumbs.

She looked up so suddenly that I was caught off guard. My focus was shifted from almost obscenely pink lips to her almond shaped eyes and their fringing of dark lashes. And the dark eyebrow that quirked atop them.

I had been caught flat out molesting her with my eyes, and in a superbly well thought out reflex, I scowled and looked away. She looked enraged again.

"So, Bella's back Chief?"

BPOV

I checked the bank balance on the screen in front of me, synonymously impressed with the earnings my dad was maintaining, and the homemade cinnamon bun that was deliriously good with freshly brewed coffee. I knew half of it was all over my face, but my dad had seen me eat like a pre-pubescent male many a time.

I was halfway through my morning pastry when I realised I wasn't alone. I had that uncomfortable, prickling feeling that you get when someone's staring at you, and I was ninety nine per cent sure that my dad knew what I looked like without minutely analysing me.

No, this stare was different. It made me ache a little. It was a searing. As if someone was mentally taking me apart and putting me back together again. I glanced up from the screen to catch none other than Edward Cullen eyeballing me. What an asshole. He comes back into the gym, the very gym where he'd insulted me just yesterday and tries to stare me out through a window. Looking me up and down like I'm a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe. Mature, Cullen. Very mature.

"Bella, get on out here and say hallo to Carlisle and his boys."

I sighed. At least the burly one looked friendly, which was ironic considering he was built like a grizzly bear.

I dusted the remnants of my snack off my shirt and took the box; it was only polite to offer them around and visualise Edward biting into his to find some of my saliva that would probably disgust him so much. Maybe just a picture of my face would do, come to think of it.

I emerged from the office smiling, and brandished the box at Carlisle.

"I come baring gifts." I hated myself for how cheesy I sounded. I hated myself more for being so hyper aware of not wanting to sound like an utter girl in front of this overgrown, sullen teenager.

"Most kind of you Bella, they smell delicious." Carlisle spoke like an Amish man most of the time, but you couldn't help but forgive him when he was just so frustratingly…nice.

"I believe you met one of my sons yesterday, and although I'm sure he was altogether the charming and polite man I raised him to be, I thought we'd do it again just in case."

I almost choked my cinnamon bun back up. Polite and charming were _not_ two words I would associate with this asshole. Still, I humoured him.

"This is Emmett." Emmett held his hand out and his eyes crinkled with his smile, and for a second I was blown away by how genuine this guy was. He took the cinnamon treat readily and scarfed it down so quickly I offered him another out of guilt. He patted his stomach satisfactorily and exclaimed that they were like heaven in a pastry.

I blushed, and I felt Cullen's eyes hone in on my face again. I thought the tips of my ears were going to burn off they were so red.

"And this is Edward."

I kept my eyes to the floor as I fished out a cinnamon roll. I did not want to shake hands with this guy, so I brandished the sweet snack as a peace flag and hoped that he would take it as a truce. I did not want a verbal spat in front of our parents.

He chewed on the inside of his lip in contemplation and I honed in on the bob of his Adam's apple. My original evaluation of him had been severely underrated. He was, in actual fact, the perfect amalgamation of Esmé and Carlisle; two exceedingly good looking people. He was in jeans and a button down today; a moss green colour that brought out the shade of his eyes exactly. His face was harsh planes and angles but for his pursed lips and the shadow of his impossibly long eyelashes over the cheekbones you could slice a salami off. The fine stubble that coated his chin and cheeks was the same gorgeous bronze colour as his hair, which looked feather soft to the touch. I met his gaze shakily, aware that I had completely perused his physical profile, window shopping my way from his head to his toes. I arranged my face into a neutral expression, and the tension was palpable. It was an armistice, and the silence felt like it stretched into forever.

And then his hand stretched between us, spanning the chasm.

And if I thought his gaze had been unsettling, if I had been uncomfortable in his harsh manner, then it was nothing to what I felt at the slight brush of his fingertips against my skin. He was cool, a balm against my flushed hand. And even though it was such a feather-light caress it was practically imagined, it was like someone had injected me with fireworks. They sparked through my blood and he lingered there for longer than was necessary before yanking his hand away, holding the sticky pastry. He cast his eyes to the floor again, muttering a shaky 'thank you'. His father looked pleasantly awkward, and I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

There were two things I knew about Edward Cullen.

The first was that he irritated to me to the emotional equivalent of sandpaper irritation of the eyeballs.

The second was that with one hooded emerald gaze as he left the gym, he could almost make me flood my panties.

_**I want you to remember me, I'm leaving my fingerprints on you.**_


	3. Pledge of Allegiance

**Once again guys, thank you so much for the all the follows, favourites and reviews. The response has been amazing. I know quite a few of you are wondering what naughty Edward did. Needless to say, I'm not a lawyer, so I'm just doing a bit of background reading before I embarrass myself. Title of this chapter is accredited to Louis XIV – Pledge of Allegiance. Snarkarella makes me giggle. Please keep the lovely comments coming, and I wonder if you could all tell me your most embarrassing party moment along with your review? Enjoy babies.**

_**She says head case head case, turn that thing around. Let's play a game when you hear me make a sound…**_

BELLA POV

I have always hated parties. When I was a kid my mother would force me into an embarrassing dress, gift me with an over extravagant present, and I would arrive in a flurry of hair scrunchies and glitter, contemplating chewing my own hand off to stop Reneé gripping it so tight and throwing me at the mercy of the hypercritical 'popular' crowd. I knew it irked my mother that I was not a social butterfly like her, but I couldn't help it. Even at six years of age, I could only withstand so many 'my little pony' conversations without throwing up rainbows.

I thought my disdain for any social gathering had been renowned and understood since I spent the entirety of Jessica Stanley's fifth birthday party sitting underneath the cake table, gorging myself. My mother only remembered I was there when I threw up all over Tyler Crowley who cried for three hours straight after it. Needless to say, I was a pariah ever since.

And yet, there I found myself not just getting ready to go to a party, but also making myself look semi-presentable. Alice Hale neé Cullen was throwing a silver wedding anniversary party for Esmé and Carlisle, and we had received a fancy ass invitation in the post. Complete with silver swirls…and calligraphy. Needless to say that had thrown me into a bit of a blind panic. I didn't think I brought clothes appropriate for silver swirl type events.

After emptying the entire contents of my wardrobe over my bedroom floor, I had settled on the navy dress I had worn to my high school spring dance. It was made for Phoenix temperatures, but it was pretty classy. A navy, chiffon number that hit just above my knee. My running had giving me a svelte leg and the wrap over front was just low enough to show a little décolletage. Enough to notify everyone that my calling in life wasn't a nunnery, anyway. I was pretty well endowed for a 18 year old. Not wanting to go too overboard, I paired it with a simple black shrug cardigan and flat pumps. Comfort over style, always, I had thought, throwing offensive silver sling backs to the back of my wardrobe.

When I came down the stairs, Charlie whistled, and I wanted to go back upstairs and throw a bag over my lightly curled hair. If Charlie was impressed, I must have done okay. Even he had a tie on; the Cullens must have been local celebrities.

The drive to the house was relatively silent, but for Charlie that didn't suggest anything out of the ordinary or that I was as nervous as I was. Car journeys between us were usually silent and I liked it a lot that I didn't have to fill the space with empty words and token chit chat. I had yet to find someone in life who shared that same quality other than my dad. For me, talking about the weather just made me feel even more awkward.

We were greeted at the door by the most exuberant female I have ever met. Her hair was jet black and cut short, as spiky and out there as her apparent personality. Charlie smiled nervously, and even though he looked genuinely terrified, he greeted her warmly. I knew without introduction that it was Alice. She apologised profusely for her brother being such an asshole, assured me that he would make it up to me, and led me to the buffet. It was a pretty average thing to say, but the surety in which she said it made me a little uneasy. It was like she was making a prediction, rather than reassuring me.

I picked at the buffet, ashamed to admit that I didn't recognise half of the food that was presented to me. I thought I was okay in the kitchen, but whoever had catered this party was unrivalled. I laughed at Charlie talking to Billy Black at the other side of the room, with his plate full of mini gourmet burgers and quiche which I was sure had been picked because he thought it was deep pan pizza. I chuckled to myself and bit into some chicken and mustard en croute, groaning with delight at the flavours.

A woman with flame red hair that could only be Edward's mother smiled warmly at me. I struggled to swallow the food.

"Whoever catered this party is a certified culinary God."

"Goddess." She winked. "It's all my own work."

I nodded my head in approval and she held her hand out. Her grip was slight and she smiled at me so warmly that it made me want to wrap myself up in her. There was something very maternal about her manner, and reassuring. She was light and airy, like freshly laundered shirts on the washing line in the spring breeze.

"Hi, I'm…"

"Bella Swan. You could only be Bella Swan! You're so beautiful!" I flushed. "I'm Esmé, Edward's mom. I'm so sorry about him by the way. He was just having an off day, and believe me when I say he _hates_ being told what to do – especially by a girl!"

I laughed softly.

"Is he here?" I couldn't help the hopeful tone that crept into my voice. He was like a bad car crash. I knew it'd break my own heart to look at him, but I just couldn't tear my gaze away. Even now I was unknowingly scanning the room for a flash of that devilishly unkempt bronze hair.

"Oh yes, he's lurking somewhere. I'm sure you'll run into him."

And with that she moved away, ever the dutiful hostess, and I was engulfed in a new scent. Like baby prostitute.

I felt a hand on my arm, but it was not reassuring, and I was flipped round to a vision of what could only be described as completely and utterly fake. Bleach blonde hair with huge, overly done-up blue eyes and a tight, pink cocktail dress.

"BELLA! OMG, I bet you totally can't remember me." What the fuck? Why was she speaking like someone from Malibu? Why was she _dressed_ like someone from Malibu?

"Lauren, Lauren Mallory."

I scanned my brain, and then the memory of a sickly pale blonde child crept into my head. From what I could remember, she was always being bossed around by Jessica. But apparently since Lauren grew tits that had changed because I now recognised Jessica standing at her elbow like a faithful lapdog.

"OMG Jessica, do you remember that time that Bella threw up everywhere at my party?"

It was one of those really awkward moments where the room becomes silent as the offending article of speech gets louder. Everyone looked our way and the girls tittered to themselves. I blushed for the fifty millionth time that night.

"Yeah, how could I forget huh?"

"I know! I mean you totally still look so young. Like twelve or something…don't you agree Jessica?!"

Now I realised. Her smile wasn't overly friendly; it was malicious. Nothing had changed here at all. Still just a bunch of small town beauty queens fighting over the one tiara.

"Ladies, if you don't mind, I'm going to steal her for a minute." I heard his velvet voice to my right, and his warm hand on my elbow, leading me in the direction of the kitchen. I was almost too mortified to look up and see the astounded look on their faces. I was even more scared of the personality transplant currently occurring to my right. I felt the eyes of a slim blonde girl with masses of long, wavy hair track me as I was led to the kitchen. Oh God. That was the last thing I needed. Please don't let that be his girlfriend.

**EPOV**

The skin at her elbow was smooth, and she smelt like honey and summer as I practically ran her through to the kitchen. When I had seen and heard Lauren's catty attack, it had sent a poker of fury through me. They had always talked down to Tanya like that, for no reason other than reckless jealousy, and it always drove a fire into my belly that girls could be so horrendous to one another. Underneath all the bullshit, I was actually quite a sensitive male.

She was shaking with mortification as I positioned her against the counter, and as I rooted around in the cupboards for two glasses, I cast furtive glances in her direction. She looked shell shocked, but altogether quite different to the gym. More refined; older. And that was dangerous, because right now, my man brain wasn't telling me that she was eighteen and I was an asshole, it was just telling me that she looked and smelled fucking amazing and what would she do if I just…

FOCUS. Focus Edward, you're spilling Purple Rain all over your new shoes. Your squeaky fucking new shoes that your mom bought you for this party, so no-one things you're the _poor_ ex convict. If I got any more labels, I'd need to take out paper cut insurance.

Her head was in her hands and she was rubbing at her neck in agitation. I wrapped my hands around her wrists and pulled them down from her face, my voice as gentle as I could make it.

"Hey, you don't need to worry about Lauren. She just does it for effect." She exhaled shakily and we were so close that the puff of air glanced off my cheek. She smelled of wine, maybe a glass or two that she had consumed with the buffet. She was still silent as I pressed the drink into her hand and leant against the kitchen island opposite her.

It struck me as odd that my first instinct had been to protect her when I had been such an asshole to her the day before, but I brushed it off as my guilt speaking. She was obviously as confused as I, because she kept looking at me with a gaze so startled, it felt like I was pointing a gun at her, holding her captive. I ran my hands through my hair and tugged, nervously. I knew I left the strands standing on end, but I didn't care. I needed to break the silence.

"Erm, I always remember Jacob Black's birthday party. It was his seventh, I think. Down on the rez."

I had piqued her interest and she looked up at me above the rim of her glass as she brought it to pursed, rosebud lips. I stalled a little, watching her pink tongue flick out to taste the tartness of the liquid. I cleared my throat and she blushed again, lowering the glass to the counter.

"I was the weedy ginger kid. Pale and sickly as hell. Right in there with all those freaky Rez kids that probably drink moonshine at aged five and wrestle grizzly bears or something."

She smirked a little.

"So I got picked out, honed in on. Got dared to eat a crayon." I smiled to myself now. "My puke was red for a week."

I didn't know whether it was the strange boyish pride displayed in my smile, or the story itself, but she laughed, loud and punctuated. And it was a sigh in the pregnant atmosphere, and suddenly we were laughing together. Conspiratorially. And she was breathtakingly beautiful when she laughed. Vibrant, and deep and mystifying. Dark, dark eyes, twinkling with the alcohol she had consumed. I could see the effects of her inebriation begin to kick in, the slightly widened pupils and the flush to her skin.

"Look, about the other day. I, it's just, I'm not always like that and…"

God, I was drowning. I had nothing to formulate a proper, functioning sentence with and her calves were so slim and I bet her thighs were slimmer and…

She thrust her hand forward, jerking me out of my revelry.

"Hi, I'm Bella. I'm new to town. My dad, 'the Chief' Swan is caring for me whilst my highly strung mother tends to her outrageously young and rich husband." She had saved me. She was reintroducing herself like the last few days had never happened.

Her hand hung there between us, and I wanted to take it so badly. I was partially afraid that she was going to feel as good to the touch as she did in the gym. So smooth and warm and…pulsating. It was like my body had never been aware someone else was so alive before. She flinched a little and went to draw her hand back, but before it could rest on the counter, I reached forward, one hand grasping her delicate wrist to bring it back out of hiding, and the other holding on to the fine bones of her proffered hand.

Her skin was a balm against mine, and as I had pushed up off the counter, we were closer together. She looked up at me with hope and confusion in her young – so fucking young – gaze, and the lip that had been held prisoner by top teeth was released with a pop. It resonated in my ears.

I swallowed, my mouth dry.

"Hi, I'm Edward. Most people call me Cullen. This is my parents' house and I'm the most fucked up of their children – and that's saying something."

Her smile answered mine, and the tension was palpable. And I could see a wisp of hair, so fine that I could just blow it back into place. I pursed my lips in preparation…

"Edward have you seen the – Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Fucking Rose, fucking fuck.

**BPOV**

He was like a whirlwind. Oh let me rescue you Bella, here stand in my kitchen Bella, let me fix you a drink Bella, won't you laugh at my entertaining story Bella? The more I drank the more attractive he became. And his palm against mine was a reassuring weight and what my alcohol hazed brain really wanted to do was seize him by the suit lapels and run my tongue along his lips, licking off the sugar that lay there from the rim of his cocktail glass.

And he had been close, so close that I could smell that he'd probably smoked pot that day, because beneath the freshly laundered shirt and the aftershave, it lingered. And then there was another flurry of activity to my left, and some girl called "Rose" had ruined it.

Edward had scurried out like a man caught masturbating, and had muttered a "See you around, kid". Kid? See you around? How old was I, eight? I seethed silently and my eyebrows knitted together in frustration. The woman called Rosalie laughed.

"Kinda like petting a sleeping tiger isn't it?" She offered, and I laughed to myself. This other woman was equally as tipsy as I, and she teetered on her ridiculously expensive heels. All five foot nine of her gorgeous self advanced towards me and I was envious of her never ending legs.

"Yup, and I think I got a tiger size bite right about now."

Rose smiled sympathetically.

"Actually, when I interrupted ya'll's moment, that was the most relaxed I've seen him look in a while. What d'ya do, roofie him?"

"I have no idea. What's his deal anyway?"

Rosalie, loosened by alcohol and none the wiser to her forthcoming crime responded with "I guess prison does that to a person."

My heart pounded in my throat, and Rosalie muttered her goodbyes and left in search of more napkins. My stomach swirled, and the array of crimes he could have committed highlighted how much I didn't know about this man who commanded my senses so entirely.

After the party that night, I raced to my computer, willing the relic to power up quickly. I typed his name into the local newspapers' search engine and what appeared were many sullen photos of none other than Edward Cullen. Still bronze haired, but ultimately more dishevelled.

"Local man arrested for…"

"Night kid!" Charlie's voice echoed through my bedroom, and I hit the power off button to the computer accidentally in my blind panic. I knew Charlie wouldn't take kindly to me snooping around in the archives of Forks. After he'd gone on to bed, I was too nervy to look again, and I reasoned that it would be there until I left Forks for me to sift through his dirty laundry. I would look again tomorrow.

My bed was a bath of sweat once more by the morning, and this time I was being held prisoner by Dracula - an erotic murderer with a sinister motivation…

_**She said let me feel your love , I mean come on make it stick. I'm the best of your little baby chicks, oh you're my sweet tooth sugar fix…**_


	4. The Boxer

**Hi all. Bare with me, this is a long author's note. First of all can I again thank you for all the lovely comments and reviews :) On the subject of reviews, I received a particularly catty one on the last chapter. I am all up for constructive criticism, but this was a particularly abrasive comment and it kind of knocked my confidence. It takes a lot to put your stuff out there for other people to read and judge, so thank you for everyone who's supported me. The review in question said "****Lol I got totally to turned off by the ending of this chapter; she had to use a computer to google PUBLIC news, she turned off the computer because her dad yelled "good night" lol like he was over her shoulder spying or sneaking up on her. It's not like she was going through the police dep files..  
>What year is this? If it is in present time, it's totally inaccurate because a normal person, specially a 18 yr old girl would just google using their phone, and there's noway that a person interested in another would just click off and leave it for next day.<br>A cliffhanger attempt was made.."**

**I thought I'd answer the review anyway, as it was posted anonymously, just in case anyone else was wondering the same things (Hopefully in a less cutting way, ha!). Edward committed the crime 5 years ago, so it's not going to still be floating around on public news stands etc. Also, Bella doesn't know a lot of people – she tried asking her dad and he shut her down. The only other people she has met so far has been Edward's family. ****It also states that she hit the button in "blind panic". I don't know about anyone else but I've been snooping before as we all have and heard someone coming and accidentally shut it off completely. The Forks archive joke was sarcasm (Didn't think I was going to have to explain that one). Maybe she thought he was going to come into her room to check she was okay? On the smartphone subject: I'm a 21 year old female. I have plenty of friends who don't even have a smart phone or if they do they don't have a contract that allows internet usage. The computer she has at Charlie's is old, and whilst I didn't think I needed a detailed description of her cell phone, or that I needed to be particular, Bella isn't a technological person. I don't think we ever saw a line in Stephanie Meyer's novel that said "Bella pulled out her iphone and tapped vampire into google" either. If anyone else has any questions, please feel free to PM me! And please continue to review/favourite/follow to let me know what I'm doing right!**

**Credit for the next chapter title goes to Simon & Garfunkel – The Boxer.**

**EPOV**

_**And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down , and cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame…**_

I primped the cushions just like Esmé liked, and Rose scraped the last of the food off of the catering tray and into a black bin liner. It was almost 2 am, and Esmé and Carlisle had long gone to bed, but we knew if she got up in the morning to even half the mess that was left, she'd have a nervous mental breakdown. As motherly and laid back as she was, our house always looked like a showroom. She just couldn't help it.

"So, who was that girl you were speaking to in the kitchen?" I shrugged my shoulders, attempting to remain nonchalant. But Rose was deceivingly attentive. I knew this question would be raised, I just didn't realise it would be aimed at me so promptly.

"Bella Swan, the Chief's daughter. She's staying with her dad for the summer."

Rose nodded, hiding a smirk.

"What?" I asked, my nostrils flaring a little, and my pride wounded. I was not this easy to read, especially by Rose, who paid the least attention to me out of all my family. Rose still had faith, apparently, that I could get from the cradle to the grave without completely fucking up my life. And I respected her for that, although I knew her own childhood had left much to be desired. She had grown up as trailer trash, pretty much stealing to get by thanks to her dirty crack whore of a mom. It was only when she got put into foster care that she finally saw the light. She had met Emmett in university, and they'd pretty much been inseparable ever since.

"You know exactly what. You looked at her like she was something to eat."

"It's not like that Rose, and you know it." I stuffed a party cup into the bag after the leftover quiche. Girls after Tanya were a sore subject. I had always been a flirt, a natural, a charmer. And yet, after she'd died, it was like all of it leaked out of me. Women became wary, almost, as if they knew I was damaged goods. "I was just being nice to her; I was a bit of an asshole on first impressions."

"Yeah, she seemed to have gotten the asshole memo. I told her not to worry, that you were just pissed off you had to be someone's jail bitch…"

I gritted my teeth, and the muscles in my neck and shoulders tightened inexplicably.

"You what?"

Rosalie blanched.

"Why would you tell her about prison?"

Rosalie shrugged, immediately defensive.

"Oh come on Edward, it's a small town and people talk. I'm sure her old man has already…"

"She didn't know Rosalie. " I tugged at my auburn hair. "It wasn't your place to tell her anything, now she's going to ask and get some long ass scary story about how I'm a fucking murderer from some busybody at the diner!"

"Geez Edward, you're kind of making a fucking big deal out of this considering you don't care about her…"

"It is none of your business Rosalie! You know, she's the first person in a year who's judged me solely on my actions in the present. I was an asshole, and she took me as face value; an asshole. Not an emotionally crippled criminal."

"Don't get crabby with me Edward…"

"No, fuck you Rosalie! You don't get to tell me not to get crabby. You had no fucking right." I stalked towards the music room. "You know what? I thought you'd understand what it was like to be prejudged by someone, but you've clearly forgotten your first home was a trailer and you're just like every other interfering prick around here. Thanks a heap."

I slammed the door in her beetroot red face and shut the world out, bashing at the keys of my piano until the chords fell together in a jarring melody.

I avoided the gym the next morning, postponing my training session until the evening. I had suffered a sleepless night, and I don't think I'd ever been so mad at Rose before in my life. I had barely got to know Bella, and what she had done last night had already forced my hand to tell her things that she really wasn't ready to know.

I would tell her the truth, and she'd want nothing to do with me, and then I wouldn't have to worry about why her opinion mattered so much to me in the first place. Fucking girl.

Rose tried to intercept me as I left the house, but I practically growled at her and rammed my earbuds into my hear so hard that I'm pretty sure if the volume of my Rage Against The Machine track didn't perforate my eardrums, they probably did.

I jogged briskly down to the gym, and shuffled outside for a few minutes bouncing nervously from foot to foot and wondering when I got to be such a pussy. It turned out that ultimately, my concerns were for nothing. When I got inside, Bella was nowhere to be seen, and it was Seth, Charlie's new girlfriend's son that was manning the reception desk and the office today. I grunted a hello and he regarded me with the same wary gaze all rez residents did. They were a crazy bunch, but even they didn't fuck with the Volturi.

I turned my volume up louder and moved to the skipping rope to warm up. The track switched to Led Zeppelin's "Whole lotta love". I don't know when I started thinking about her, but my brain steadily filtered in images of her in that amazing navy dress from the night before. I wondered if she knew how plastic she made Lauren Mallory look. Once upon a time, Lauren may have been the right kind of girl for me. Smart enough to chat to, dumb enough to fuck. I had always had a thing for blondes. But Bella wasn't just attraction. It wanted to look at her so hard it was like I was drinking her. The images that my brain supplied weren't pornographic, just incredibly detailed close-ups of things I didn't even recall paying that much attention to.

Primarily, I remembered the flicker of her eyelashes, and the upward turn of her soft, petite features as she looked up from under them. I ignored the rush of blood to my groin and the illicit mental image I'd obtained and moved onto the punchbag.

I don't know how many hours I was there, but I know that Rose's words rang in my ear. I went so hard and so fast that I didn't even notice the lights being turned off, and the soft pad of her feet behind me.

I smelled her before I turned around. That overwhelming smell of innocence; everything fresh and young in life. When I turned round she stood there like a pale pink angel under the one remaining light. She was holding the keys to the gym in one hand and a doggy bag in the other. The sweater was a little too big for her and I could see a protruding collar bone, a delicately shaped shoulder, and the most maddening of all the slight swell of her breast where the fabric had slipped too low. She was a hastily wrapped present for my eyes, and my mouth went dry at the sight of her.

She was speaking to me but it was as if I was emerged under water, and as I stumbled a little I realised that the dry mouth may actually have been something to do with dehydration. I felt her small arm on my bicep as she guided me to a bench and the gentle pressure as she sat me down. So fragile, so delicate.

"Edward what on earth is wrong? Where's your water?"

I glanced around the gym like I'd never seen it before. Where was my water? That was a damn good question, but I couldn't think because she was pressing her little hands to my face.

"You feel clammy."

And she had leaned forward, and I had a glorious glimpse of tight, high breasts. My pants tightened uncomfortably and I remained silent because there was nothing I could have said that was coherent or appropriate at that given moment in time. She pressed a bottle of water into my hand and I swigged with abandon.

"That looked kind of punishing. I hope that punchbag wasn't me in your head."

She offered me a small smile, and I finally found my tongue.

"It was Rosalie actually."

Bella swallowed slowly, and I could see her weighing her words carefully. Assessing me.

"Was it because of what she said to me? If it was about prison I…"

I couldn't help it. She looked so naïve.

"You know nothing about me or my life Bella."

I knew my words were harshly chosen, and she recoiled as if I'd slapped her.

"I never said I did –"

"And neither does Rosalie, or anyone else in this godforsaken shit hole. The only reason I stayed here was for Tanya, and now I stay here for my mom, to reassure her that I'm not about to –"

I hadn't realised but tears had sprung to my eyes, and it was all suddenly too much. She rose and stood in front of me, making soft shushing noises as you might to pacify a baby. Suddenly the tears came hot and heavy, and for a while I let her thread her fingers through my air, gently stroking the back of my neck and up through the auburn strands, and I leaned my head against her stomach. And then I was up and pushing her away, and running for the door again.

"Just stay away from me Bella. We can't be friends".

_**I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains.**_


	5. Breathe Me

**Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in posting, work has really been getting on top of me – there are a surprising number of bones in the wrist! Wow 60 people following this story! That is so cute of you all considering I didn't even think anyone would read this. This is a very short filler chapter where we get to see Edward actually have a heart (shocking, I know). I promise it gets a bit juicier from here. Enjoy, and tell me your thoughts on nice Edward **** Keep reviewing, following and favouriting – you're making a stressed med student's day. Chapter title belong to Sia. Be patient with the Jacob/Bella as well. We have to have someone to spur ol' Edward into action ;) Don't worry…nothing actually happens – I really dislike Jacob/Bella. **

**BPOV**

_**Be my friend, haunt me. Wrap me up, unfold me. I am small, and needy.**_

I stood there dumbfounded for what must have been half an hour or more. Every time I tried to leave I'd remember the hot, damp skin of his forehead, seeping through my t-shirt and onto my belly and I'd stop all over again and look back at the spot. The very same spot where I had witnessed his personality fragment into about 3 different people.

He had cried like a girl, turned me on like a man (Although I'm not sure how much of that was intentional, on his part,) and then he ran away like a little boy. And suddenly I was raving mad again, but more at myself than at Edward.

Hadn't I been shown that if I played with Edward shaped fire I would get burned? Hadn't I already been warned by the extraordinarily beautiful Rosalie? And if a girl like Rosalie couldn't make him sociable then I knew I definitely couldn't.

And there I was, once again. Abandoned on my own dad's property feeling like a stupid try hard. He was right. I was a kid.

I was pretty sure I was still frothing at the mouth when I rounded the corner and nearly ran head long into the great black cab of a truck.

"HEY ASSHOLE WATCH WHERE YOU'RE…Oh. Bella."

Oh wow. To top it all off now I was crying. Jake Black was pulling the car over to the side of the road and getting out to catch me around the shoulders.

"Hell Bella, I didn't mean to scare ya, but you oughta think about looking where you're going. These things hurt you know."

He smiled weakly and patted the bed of the truck. I watched as the whole entire truck rocked under the force of his – admittedly impressive – biceps. Jake Black was the son of Billy Black, one of my dad's oldest friends. He was always such a good kid, and between Billy getting into the accident that left him in a wheelchair and his mom dying, I knew he hadn't had it easy these last few years. And he could still be nice. He was still apologising and getting out of the van to put his arm around me and squeeze my shoulders. Admittedly he might have dislocated it but it was the thought that counted.

"I'm…so, so, sorry Jake." I was sniffling. And every time I tried to regulate my breathing I just kept crying.

"Hey Bells, it's fine honestly. Do you need a ride home?"

I nodded bleakly, clambering into the seat next to the steering wheel and enjoying the companionable silence on the ride home. When we pulled up outside the house Jake made no move to get out of the cab. It was kind of nice to just sit and let the heat dissipate. I felt the warmth of his gigantic palm on my shoulder.

"Is everything alright? I mean, Forks is pretty shitty but I don't think it's anything to cry about." He tried humour again, and I snorted weakly. He was prying a little, and looking at me with these big expectant eyes, but I humoured him.

"It's not Forks Jake. It was just a really rude customer at the gym."

Jake rolled his eyes.

"Oh let me guess. Rocky Cullen?"

My eyes flashed to his.

"How did you know that?"

Jake snorted and flicked some of the leather peeling from the steering wheel away.

"Geez. If I had a dollar for everytime Cullen made a girl cry, I'd have almost as much money as if I had a dollar for every girl who threw themselves at him."

He frowned.

"I don't even get the attraction. He's so…crabby. And ginger." At that I laughed out loud and he looked pleased with himself. "And I swear to God if you do that thing that girls do where you say IT'S AUBURN, all exasperated and shit, the next time you flying headbutt my truck I won't be so nice."

Now I was shaking with laughter. They were the exact two words that had popped into my head. I was so far gone right now.

"Hey listen." He took my hand in his but it wasn't weird, surprisingly. "There's the big charity football game on Saturday. I couldn't catch a ball if you gave me Velcro assistance, but the rest of the guys are playing. The carnival is pretty cool too. You should definitely go." He faltered slightly. "With, with me. I mean. Do you want to go?"

His grin was so wide it was almost wolfish, and I don't know why the hell I even said it, but without thinking I think I had accidentally agreed to go on some form of date with Jacob Black. Hell.

**EPOV**

I was still crying after my jog home. This was the biggest bitch behaviour I think I'd ever exhibited but I was fucking sick of this town and the people in it and reliving my past like a broken record. No-one cared about how it had left me, it was always about how it had devastated my mom, or made my dad a laughing stock.

I was hurling items of clothing out of my wardrobe and into my suitcase when my mom appeared in the doorway. She leaned on the door jam and crossed her arms, surveying the mess I was making.

For a five foot woman who looks incredibly slight, my mother is really, really strong. Like strong to the point that when she wrestled me into sitting on the bed with my head on her shoulder I understood why Emmett was as good at wrestling as he was.

And her hand was stroking my head in ways only a mother knows how too and she was making these little 'shhing' noises like she used to when I'd cut my knee when I was a kid. And I realised that I hadn't really cried since it all happened. When she died, of course I cried. I lost someone I loved dearly. I watched her own father put her at risk to further himself and pay the ultimate price. And when they were both dead I was the only one to take the rap for it. And now Bella Swan had waltzed into the picture and reminded me of all the innocence that I had murdered with my involvement with the Volturi and their drug dealings. I had never meant to get mixed up in any of that, but I was so lust driven…so sure of myself and my feelings for Tanya that I had let myself get sucked in. Like the class clown.

"You like her. You like her and it scares you."

My mother's voice was soft. But it was just that; my mother's voice. Not some therapist's words.

I shrugged grimly.

"It's okay Edward."

"It's not okay. She's 18. I'm a criminal."

I felt the tear run down her face and splash into my hair. And I was ashamed.

"Not to me you're not. To me you're Edward who used to help me at the soup kitchen when he was 9. Edward who taught his little brother how to box, much to my chagrin. Edward who used to like cookies so much he'd snaffle one right out the oven then cry for hours after."

She laughed softly and I exhaled shakily into her shoulder so that bits of her hair blew around her face.

"You're still doing it now, son. You should take the same advice I offered you years three to now. Let it cool a little."

I looked down at my hands in my lap. At my half packed suitcase. I wiped my nose indecorously on the back of my sleeve and she tutted.

"Sure then, yeah. I guess I like her."

_**Ouch, I have lost myself again. Lost myself and I am no where to be found. Yeah I think that I might break. Lost, myself again and I feel unsafe…**_


End file.
